


Canadian Dreams

by CupOfEarleGrey



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Injury, Love Confessions, Old Friends, Pining, request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-10 00:51:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20126644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CupOfEarleGrey/pseuds/CupOfEarleGrey
Summary: "Would you be willing to write some fluff about Charles and the reader in Beecher’s Hope and he brings up going to Canada? Maybe he accidentally turns it into a confession/proposal?" - Anon





	Canadian Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> I kinda got carried away with this request. Who hasn’t dreamed about riding off to Canada with Charles? I sure have. A million times.
> 
> Anyway, this turned out way angstier than I really intended. What can I say, I’m a sad bitch™. I hope you still enjoy it, anon. I worked really hard.

Staying behind to protect Abigail and Jack while John, Charles, and Sadie went after Micah seemed like a good idea at the time. They needed you more. As did the ranch, left unmanned for days would make it an open target. The Skinner Brothers had no reservations the last time security was lax. Yet as the minutes turned into hours, and the hours turned into days, a dreadful restlessness came over Beecher’s Hope.

Abigail paced about, snapping at everything and everyone, rarely taking her eyes off the gate, looking up at the remotest sound of hooves or talk. The work kept you both busy, but it provided no real distraction. Words exchanged were rare and tense. Even Jack was grateful to be put to work. His books couldn’t keep his mind off his father or distract him from his mother’s unease.

Uncle behaved unusually. He actually helped with the smaller chores, insisting that the men owe him when they get back and that the lack of their nagging was doing him some good. He was the only one who kept up some semblance of cheer, trying to break up the silence and tension with jokes and tales of the old days. At night he never failed to bring out the banjo, even when all were stony faced and exhausted.

You were grateful for his take on it. Any time he met you, he firmly reminded you they could handle themselves and that John was too stupid to die, anyway. You’d force a weak smile and nod each time, quickly returning to your work, wanting to give the impression that his words were a comfort. They weren’t.  
The truth was, while you were concerned for John and Sadie, it was Charles you were most afraid for.

The idea that he might not come back terrified you. Worse was the idea he might come back in a state where you wished he hadn’t. A heavy, uneasy weight nestled in your gut as your thoughts twisted and mutated. The last time you had felt this way was in Beaver Hollow. It felt as though what happened there was reaching out to you across the years, embracing and caressing you with the soft whisper that you could lose your family all over again. It followed you like a dark cloud, haunting your dreams with nightmares that he was already dead.

-♥️-

The sound of hooves against the dusty earth interrupted a grim, silent coffee break with Abigail. She leapt up from her seat barely a second before you, her cup clattering to the floor as she sprinted out the door with you hot on her heels.  
A pair of horses making their slow, steady way towards the house was the view waiting for you outside. Your eyes flicked to rear horse, the unmistakable silhouette of Charles was hunched over slightly in the saddle. Your heart leapt into your throat as you bounced anxiously on your heels behind Abigail.

At her shout, Uncle and Jack joined you on the porch, all eyes turned anxiously to the newcomers. The days of anxiety and fear came together to flood your veins with adrenaline and hope. You hardly dared breathe as John slipped off his horse and called out;  
“It’s over, Abigail. It’s all over.”

The words and their meaning barely seemed to register before the relief overwhelmed you. It left you lingering on tenterhooks, momentarily stunned, teetering backwards and forwards on the balls of your feet. Then they carried you forward, following Abigail down the steps, but instead of towards John, you rushed to Charles.  
He struggled out of the saddle, holding his left shoulder at an odd angle.

“Charles!” You cried out as you reached him. “I’m so glad yo- You’re hurt!”  
“I got shot.” He grunted. “I should be fine, it’s not serious.”  
“Let’s get you inside. I’ll… I can help you.”  
You took his uninjured arm and walked him carefully into the house. Your nerves sang with joy that he was alive and back with you again, safe from harm. Meanwhile, your heart throbbed with anguish at his pained breaths as you steered him up the steps. At least you could take care of him now.

Carefully, you lead him into Jack’s room and had him sit on the bed. At your instruction, he removed his coat and shirt while you went off to fetch medical supplies. Abigail was tending to Sadie in the master bedroom, leaving you with what she could spare. You returned and sighed at the sight of his makeshift bandages. They were stained with blood both fresh and old; the ride back hadn’t been kind. He frowned as you reached out to gently unravel them, slowly revealing his wound.

“I already removed the bullet.” He informed you with a sigh. “Better to get it out before it heals.”  
“That’s smart of you.” You smiled weakly, picking up your bowl of water and sitting by him on the bed.  
You got to work on cleaning his injury. There wasn’t much you could do that he hadn’t already, and you were grateful for it. Charles always knew how to take care of himself. You felt almost foolish for worrying so much about him, yet even now your chest was tight with concern. Though he was a brave patient, the small hitches of his breath as you worked caused you great pain.

The warmth of his skin radiated off him in waves, making you all too aware of your closeness. You tried your best to ignore it, though it was no small feat. Combined with the urge to soothe his pain and reassure yourself that he really was alive, it took all your self control not to kiss him. Channelling all your focus onto cleaning him up helped, at least until you noticed he kept casting furtive glances at your face. You caught his gaze and held his eye contact, dropping your cloth into the now brown water.

Emotion pooled in your chest as you looked into his deep, brown eyes. A vivid memory came to you across the years of a situation just like this.  
During the botched Blackwater robbery, Charles burnt his hand. As the gang traversed the mountains, you convinced him to let you help him with it. Together you sat in silence in the back of the wagon, his big hand in yours as you applied soothing balm and fresh bandages. Back then, your heart had raced as it had now, though that baby crush seemed laughable in comparison.

“I always seem to be patching you up.” You chuckled. “Ever since Blackwater.”  
He flexed his hand, the corner of his lips twitching as he recalled the memory himself. You wondered briefly what emotion it conjured for him.  
“I’m grateful for that.” He admitted.  
“It was the first time we ever really talked.”  
“That’s why I’m grateful.”  
“Me too. You’re a wonderful friend, Charles.”

He flinched almost imperceptibly, whether at your words or the brush of your fingertips on his bare shoulder, you couldn’t tell. Now that he was all clean, you dabbed medicine on his wound and checked it was healing well. With nothing left to do, you began wrapping fresh, clean bandages around him.  
When you were done, you helped him pull on a clean shirt and had him get into bed. After firmly instructing him that he was to spend a good few days in bed, you fetched him some fresh water and alcohol.

“Thank you.” He squeezed your hand and smiled.  
“Of course.” You returned his squeeze and released him. “I’m… glad you’re back.”  
“For a while I thought we’d be lucky to come back.” He confessed. “Micah was well guarded.”  
“He always was more trouble than he’s worth.”  
“He’s dead now.”  
“I’m glad it’s over.” You sighed, letting yourself feel the relief you had been holding back. “I was scared.”  
“Of what?”  
“Losing my family to him again.”

Charles stared up at you from the bed. There was something in his expression that made you look away. Was it pity?  
“Get some sleep, Charles.” You headed for the door. “You need it.”  
He didn’t respond, and you closed the door without looking at him.

-♥️-

With your tender care and the startling vigour only Charles seems to possess, he was back to his usual hardworking self in no time. He always put the needs of others above his own and couldn’t stand inaction. It was a dangerous combination, especially when healing was involved. The four days he spent in bed seemed an eternity to him, even with the constant company and entertainment. He ached to get back to work and there was nothing you could do to stop him.

By the time John and Abigail had their wedding, he was strong enough to enjoy the festivities wholeheartedly. His joy at their union seemed almost unreal. He was happier for them than even they seemed, which should have been impossible.  
Afterwards though, there was a shift in his mood. The reserved man you had once known returned, making you all too aware of how much he had changed.

You mused over his shift as you sat together by the campfire. It was a cool night, the sky above you clear and glittering with millions of stars, a slight breeze the only thing that stirred. Laughter rose from the distant house, reminding you why you were out here.  
Charles held his harmonica in his hands, spinning it in his fingers and wetting his lips repeatedly. It seemed he intended on playing, but had yet to find the will to do so, too busy with his thoughts to notice his fidgeting.

“I think we’ll have to leave soon.” You said thoughtfully. “The Marston’s want their space.”  
“I know.” He agreed, slipping his harmonica into his pocket. “I wanted to talk to you about that.”  
“You did?”  
“Where are you planning to go?”  
You stared at him as you thought on it. You hadn’t considered it too closely. The truth was, you had nowhere to go. Your life since the gang had been a lonely one, spent wandering and scraping by. No place had ever been ‘home’.

“I…” You swallowed. “I figure I’d go back to wandering. Maybe find someplace to settle down. Not much of a plan I know but… since Dutch, I never really had a plan.”  
There was a pause as he seemed to consider your words. As it drew out, you started to feel uneasy and embarrassed, so you switched tact.  
“What about you?” You asked.  
“Canada.” He hesitated and after a moment, continued; “I want to settle down. Get married, start a family. Seeing what John’s built here makes me wonder if I could have it too.”

That explained his broodiness.  
You would be lying if you said you hadn’t been feeling the same way. The life you had watched John build for his family made you long for your own. Stability and love always seemed a distant dream to you, and yet John had built it through determination alone. You had plenty of that. The only thing you were missing was someone who loved you enough. You stole a hopeful glance at Charles with a familiar throb of longing.

Like a tidal wave crashing onto the shore, the realisation of what his words meant flooded your thoughts. Images of Charles in a distant, unknown land flickered in your mind's eye. A sturdy wooden home built by hand. A beautiful woman with a blurred face, heavy with child. Young children laughing and running between trees. Their parents watching with matching warm smiles. A million miles away from you, hunched over a bar in some unknown saloon, alone and afraid again.

A bullet would have hurt less. Pain bloomed in your heart, spreading quickly through your veins until it left every inch of you numb. His plans didn’t involve you. That was clear from how he talked about it. You were right there, already desperately in love with him, and he planned to ride off to Canada in search of a stranger.  
It took all your energy to ground yourself enough to manage a weak smile and words of encouragement.

“If anyone can build that life, it’s you, Charles.”  
“You think so?”  
“I know so.” You reached out to pat his good shoulder encouragingly and got up.  
Your throat was tightening and tears burning your eyes. You refused to let him see your reaction. He was a good man. If he knew how he had hurt you, however unintentional, he’d never forgive himself.

“I’m going to bed.” You announced, brushing yourself down and averting your gaze.  
“Wait.” Charles urged, surprised by your sudden departure.  
“Yes?”  
“You’re more than welcome to join me in Canada.”  
You couldn’t risk a glance at him. One look at his face and you’d lose yourself.  
“I don’t think so, Charles.” You shook your head and turned away. “I don’t want to get in the way.”

You walked away before he could respond, bowing your head the instant you were out of sight. That night you cried yourself to sleep, silently screaming into your pillow.

-♥️-

The next few days were torture. Catching even a glimpse of Charles was enough to break your heart all over again. Hearing his voice, seeing him smile or just being near him was agony unending. You did everything in your power to avoid him; adopting chore after chore, skipping meals, feigning headaches and even resorting to hiding in strange and remote spots on the ranch. It still wasn’t enough. Your heart couldn’t heal while he was still around and yet imagining him leaving caused you so much pain you were certain it would kill you.

Time was ticking away in your head. Every day that passed was one less day you had with him. When he left for Canada, it was a guarantee that you would never see him again. The distance was too great and you could never bring yourself to visit anyway. You felt guilty just thinking about it. Your feelings shouldn’t get in the way of you being a good friend. Charles had always been there for you and he had even invited you to join him.

Longing for him mounted with each passing day. You wanted to immerse yourself in his company as much as possible, to enjoy the last of his light before it faded away forever.  
This particular feeling was the worst. You’d find yourself gazing longingly at him, wishing he’d grow eyes and realise you were in love with him. It was a foolish hope. If he hadn’t realised by now, he wasn’t about to start. You knew the only way he could know was if you told him and you weren’t brave enough for that.

It was while you were gazing at him that you saw something to make your heart freeze over. He was sitting on the porch and whittling with his knife when Sadie came out. She squinted across the land, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand. You bent down to hide yourself behind the fence, pretending to tie your bootlace. You didn’t want her to catch you watching Charles.  
When you stood back up, she had pulled up a chair beside him.

Her head was bent low, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially to him. You watched with a small frown as they talked quietly. It was obvious they were discussing something personal and intimate, something they didn’t want overheard. She reached out and gave his knee a firm pat. You swallowed and looked away.  
Was it possible that Charles intended to go with Sadie?

They had never seemed all that close. They respected and protected each other, but they rarely spent time together. Perhaps they had grown closer over the past weeks as they recovered. Sadie hated being tied down as much as Charles did. They both loved to be active and useful, never comfortable sitting around. The actionable spunk Sadie had could easily be attractive to a man like Charles.  
Even so, you couldn’t help feeling it was a poor match. At least the blurry faced woman in your head was familiar now.

Your bad mood radiated off you when you returned to work. The mare you were grooming stamped her hooves and tossed her head as you brushed, forcing you to pause to keep patting and soothing her. Usually you would give her space to calm down, but you were too preoccupied to care. You needed to do something. Anything to channel your energy.  
Images of Charles and Sadie kept barging their way into your thoughts, making you irritated and depressed.

When footsteps heralded the approach of another, you glanced over your shoulder. Charles pushed the gate open to the paddock, his eyes on you as he gave a feeble smile. You weren’t in the mood to face him, so you looked away and gave the mare a pat on her behind, sending her cantering away. Returning to the barn, you dropped off the horse brush and made to leave.  
Charles came up behind you and barred your exit, a serious look on his face.

“I need to talk to you.” He said.  
“I have to help Abigail wi-”  
“Abigail can wait.”  
His words came out harsher than he had intended. He frowned and glanced down at his boots with a sigh. You crossed your arms over your chest, half to protect yourself and half to hold yourself together. You forced your expression to remain emotionless as you looked up at him. It was the first time you’d been alone together in days.

“I…” He fumbled with his hands, finding it hard to look you in the eyes.  
You watched as he seemed to battle with himself. It was the first time you had ever seen him so clearly nervous. You waited patiently, your desire to keep him at arm’s length melting away.  
“I want you to come to Canada… with me.” He finally managed to say. His voice was deep and raw with emotion, once again something you had never seen from him. You swallowed and shifted on your feet.

“I told you, Charles.” You sighed slowly. “I would just get in the way. I don’t want to ruin your chances.”  
“I mean I…” He took a small step closer, extending his hands towards you in a subconscious gesture. “I want you to come with me and… and build a life… together.”  
“You mean as friends?”  
“I was kind of hoping maybe…” He swallowed and then sighed heavily. “As more.”

You stared at him as he finally met your eyes. He looked so vulnerable with his shoulders slightly hunched, an expression of uncertainty on his face. All at once you realised how foolish you had been. All this time he had felt the same, and you had acted so callously towards him. If he wasn’t braver than you, and it seemed he barely had been, then you both would have gone on with your lives, utterly heartbroken and never knowing you were loved. Your heart hammered in your chest as you secretly waited for some kind of punchline.

“Only if you want to.” He concluded. “You can still join me even if-”  
“Charles, I-” You took a small step forward. “I don’t think you know just how much I would love that.”  
“I think I do.” He breathed with relief.  
“You do?”  
You gazed into each other’s eyes, both silently astonished that your feelings were shared. The emotions you had been trying to suppress bubbled up to the surface and spilled over, tears starting to track down your face with relief.

At the sight of your tears, Charles closed the distance and swept you up into his arms. You wrapped yours around his broad back, burying your face into his neck. How many years had you longed to be held by him like this?  
Far, far too many.  
He squeezed you closer, almost as though he was afraid any moment you would vanish. You tangled your fingers in his hair and filled your senses with him.

“I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time.” He confessed, the rumble of his voice radiating from his chest and into yours. “How I feel about you.”  
“Oh, Charles…”  
“When we ran with Dutch, I could never find the right words or the right time.”  
“I always thought you were too good for me.” You sighed, pulling away from him to look at his face. “I thought you could never be interested in me.”  
“I thought that about you too. Even now I… wasn’t going to tell you.”

“What changed your mind?”  
“Sadie.” He mumbled dryly.  
“So that’s what that was about.” You grinned, imagining her giving him a thorough talking to.  
“You saw that?”  
“I did. When you told me you were going to Canada I thought… I thought that meant you didn’t want me.”

He sighed and cupped your cheek, pressing his forehead against yours.  
“Oh, (Y/N).” He whispered. “I was trying to tell you then…”  
“I always assume the worst.” You sighed, thankful it worked out in the end.  
“I want to make up for lost time. The years we missed out on.”  
“Charles… if we had gotten together way back then, we wouldn’t have to opportunity we have now. We couldn’t build a proper life together as outlaws. It’s better this way.”

“I know.” He smiled and released you. “Maybe it was supposed to happen now.”  
You took his hand in yours and gave it a firm squeeze, which was quickly returned.  
“Maybe it was. All I know is I can’t wait for the future.”  
“I can’t either.”

Together you walked back towards the house, hand in hand. While Canada was still a mystery to you, the future looked bright. With Charles Smith by your side, loving you as you loved him, anything was possible.


End file.
